


Just One More Load

by jvc808



Category: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer - Fandom, armie hammer/timothée chalamet
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward, Comedy, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, Laundromat AU, Light Angst, M/M, armie has a crush, rom com
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-31 06:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17843990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jvc808/pseuds/jvc808
Summary: Armie finds himself crushing on a stranger he sees at the Laundromat on a saturday night...





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn’t his ideal Saturday night, but Armie knew that if he wasn’t here he would probably be at home binge watching a random series on Netflix and eating his weight in bad chinese food and equal amounts of beer, so he’d chalk it up to being just one step lower than what he was looking forward to all week. 

and here? here was, shifting his head side to side, surveying his surroundings, the local laundromat just down the road. He could have sworn he saw a couple of roaches fighting over a solo french fry on the floor, the television hanging off the ceiling to the side seemed to have on an informercial looping on repeat. When it replayed the same “Please dial now, and This. This could be all yours.” scene he made a mental note to bring his earphones next time. 

After dizzying himself watching his load be spun tumultuously in the grey sudded water, he walked the length of the laundromat and back, then back again. 

When he got bored of that, he fished his fists into the depths of his pockets and fiddled with his loose change. There were no vending machines, unfortunately, but there were machines that offered single-serving soap and various brands of dryer sheets. He made it a point to buy the four different dryer sheets available, busying himself with the clink and clatter of dropping in a single quarter at a time. 

He spent the next few minutes going through his dryer sheet haul, sniffing each brand to find a scent that suited him the best. He didn’t think twice before tossing the rest in the trash bin right bellow the machine. 

The laundromat was getting busy, and for a guy with his height and stature, any crowded place could make him feel quite claustrophobic fast. He momentarily checked on his load and praised the heavens above when it was on its last rinse cycle.

His gaze fell upon the swinging entrance door and two stacked laundry baskets atop flimsy, fumbling limbs. He vaguely makes out a mop of brown curls and a green eye that seems to peak its way out from behind the baskets, clearing his own way. One slender arm leaves the basket for a moment, and swats around his surrounding. 

A low voice, subdued by the clothes in front of his face, he hears the man exasperate an “Its okay. Its okayyy people. I got it.” To no one in particular, no one really paying him any attention. 

But Armie is. 

Its like a circus act, almost. This lithe thing juggling two heaping baskets, hopping over others belongings, dodging washing machines to his left and carts and kids to his right. He makes it unscathed and finally sees the face behind all of this, when he drops his baskets to the floor in triumph. 

His lips snakes into a full teeth grin and he hears a loud “HA!” before they lock eyes and Armie grins along with him. 

The mans grin quickly starts disintegrating and he is frozen for a minute before he checks if someone is behind him. He takes a step back then completes a twirl towards the soap vending machine. 

“Oooh you got to be kidding me?!” Armie hears. Apparently the machine is now all out of dryer sheets and Armie suddenly feels foolish for being so wasteful with them earlier. 

Armie had one hand on an extra sheet, about to run over and offer it when a little old lady beat him to it. He watches as he thanks her and the man is so thankful he all but nuzzles her shoulder. Armie feels bad, but now he feels bad because that could have been his shoulder getting nuzzled if he just had made it to him sooner. 

“What kind of wasteful asshole just throws away unused sheets anyway?” Armie hears just as he turns away. 

He spends the next thirty minutes trying to make eye contact with this curly haired-green eyed man but is wholly unsuccessful. Armie still feels bad about the dryer sheet fiasco earlier, and he knows that it is crazy, and knows he wouldn’t even know that Armie was the perpetrator, but feels like he should make it up to him somehow.

He wants him to know that hes not wasteful and certainly not an asshole either. Certainly not a wasteful asshole. So he makes a B line towards the man, and when he doesn’t acknowledge Armies presence, Armie fake coughs. 

Still, nothing. 

Armie stands up and paces a few steps and sits down next to him again. 

Nope. Nothing, still.

Armie grips his dryer sheets anxiously and his perfectly crafted speech about the dryer sheets are now jumbled in that anxious brain of his and he yells out, “MY ASSHOLE IS NOT WASTEFUL!”

and Armie is mortified now. Everyone around does that slow motion turn to face him and it is seconds before he hears snickers and murmured gossip. A mom is seen cupping her child’s ear while shaking her head at him. Tumbleweeds blow in the wind. 

Everyone is looking, but the man isn’t. This offers Armie a momentary pang of relief. The man brushes a tendril of curl from his forehead and places this curl behind his ear, unveiling the whites of his earphones. 

Armie unloads the dryer in record time. He makes off running with the TV marketer’s worlds “Dial now and this could be all yours...” trailing behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie tries his luck again. Second encounter.

Its been one week and several embarrassing wet dreams later where Armie accepts that he has a full blown crush on a stranger he hadn’t even had so much as a full conversation with. Well, he _tried_. “My asshole is not wasteful,” still ringing, mockingly in his ears seven days later. 

 

It has been one week and Armie decides to try his luck again. He’s never seen the same person twice at these laundromats, but maybe its because he’s never paid attention to anyone in particular. So he decides to redeem himself today. He spends extra time exfoliating his skin in the shower, shaves his beard for that perfect five o’clock shadow, and even moisturizes his body all over. If he spends extra time lathering a certain _area_ of his body, its because he likes to be thorough, and not for any other reason in particular.

 

He tries on several outfits, all somewhat the same version, but in different colors. The vetoed clothes thrown, haphazardly onto his bed. He eyes his hamper at the corner, which by now, he assumes would be overflowing with his used attire, but instead finds an empty bin with a note plastered to its side.

 

“ **Did** **your** **clothes** **for** **you**. **You’re** **welcome**.”-Jade. His personal assistant. He makes a mental note to tell her that doing his laundry is not part of the job. Normally, he’d thank her for going above and beyond her job description, and he normally does. Normally, he would reward her...but now it takes himself all the self-control he has to not call her and fire her on the spot.

 

Thankfully, he realizes he’s being a bit over dramatic but does allow himself to take his hamper and flip it across the room. Like that helps him feel any better. When it travels across the room, it lands perfectly right side up and Armie just shrinks into himself.

 

He looks at the clothes he’s just tried on and without a second thought, piles them into his hamper. He’s on the road, foot pushed to the pedal.

 

He is more than joyous to find that familiar curly head turned with his back towards him. He has to cover his mouth, because he knows the cheeky grin already spreading on his face, full throttle.He manages to compose himself right before the man whips his head around. They lock eyes again and Armie drops his hand and offers him a subtle smile instead. Again, like deja vu, the man stills and peers over his shoulder, not quite convinced that Armie’s smile was for him.

 

Armie senses this and nods his head a little and gives him a little wave. The man quirks his eyebrow and for a split second Armie can see that he’s trying to comprehend this encounter. He’s less anxious when the wave is returned.

 

When he makes his way towards him, the man eyes his two boxes of unopened dryer sheets. He opens his mouth to say something and Armie just blurts “Yeahhhh, man I learned my lesson last Saturday when a wasteful asshole decided to buy out the entirety of the vending machine and he threw out UNUSED sheets!! Unused sheets!! Who does that?” He pauses for a second and adds “He should be hanged!” and by now Armie feels sweat collecting on his forehead, feels his cheeks getting hot and knows for sure that he is turning red.

 

The man just squints, cocks his head to the side and hums an “Uh huh,”

 

“Im Armie by the way” he leaves his words lingering in the air because typically thats where the other party would join in and offer up their name in return. It doesn’t come. The man stares at him blankly and Armie can just see their encounter coming to a quickening end.

 

“Whats your name?”

 

The man bends over to pick up his basket and Armie’s nostrils are punched with the strawberry-sweet scent of his curls. He gulps and wills his eyes to not look down.

 

Because a visual of this man on his knees, or anywhere below belt level, Armie was sure, something else would pop up to make an introduction, as if he didn’t feel creepy enough.

 

“Its Tim...but you can call me Doug.” Tim laughs like its an inside joke and Armie wants to know...wants to know so much more things but before he’s even able to answer him Tim is making his way to the exit and Armie realizes he a little and a lot too late.

 

“See ya...Armie.” Tim gives him a peace sign and he’s out the doors.

 

On the bright side, Armie muses, now he has a name to put to this face. Tim. or Doug.

 

Also, Armie doesn’t need to his laundry anymore, well, because he’s never had to.

 

He’s on the road again, foot pushed to the pedal, only this time, he’s driving with a toothy grin. His canines are on full display and all he hears is “Its Tim...” like music to his ears.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the comment and the kudos guys! it definately fuels the momentum! Theres some things I have planned for this story and scenes I want to add in already! Itll be a shorter story but who knows?? thanks again!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More laundromat shenanigans

“Its been three cycles already! Give up this washer!”

He hears an older man growl.

 

“Just one more load, and its all yours!” Tim pleads. His shoulders are shrugged to his ears, his neck now lost in the tunnel of his shirt.

 

“But you’ve been washing the same set of clothes three times now...” The older man says as he huffs and puffs his way back to his seat.

 

Armie wasn’t necessarily being discreet on purpose but found he couldn’t have eavesdropped without making his presence scarce. Armie also witnessed Tim’s constant clock checks and the constant scans of the room. If these were not obvious tells, the yelp Tim does when he spots Armie is enough.

 

“Tim,”

 

“Armie,”

 

but when one goes for the handshake and the other goes for a half-hug, they collide in an awkward and unfortunate way that leaves Tim with a bleeding nose. Somehow, during that exchange, Armies extended hand, over zealously meets the tip of Tims nose and Tim, who over zealously went for the hug, drove his head towards the hand thinking he would have met Armie’s chest instead. _Wrong_.

 

Armie follows Tim to the sink to help clean up and the older man who exchanged words with Tim earlier is now laughing in the corner. They work in conjunction as Armie tips Tims head back while Tim holds a tissue to his nose. Armie effectively stops the laughter by throwing the older man the meanest scowl he could muster.

 

Tims head is still tipped back on his palm and Armie has to still his fingers to keep from massaging the scalp with his fingers. He is also profusely apologizing and Tim does his best to say he’s forgiven with words and when that doesn’t work he tries to say “its okay. Its more than okay, really” with his eyes and it works because Armie relents.

 

Almost relents. Armie insists he buy Tim a coffee at the next door diner. So they grab coffee and both are entranced in conversation.

 

When they return to their laundry they find that all seats have filled. Tim takes a seat on his dryer and beckons Armie to come and join him on his own.

 

When Armie feels the vibrations of the dryer underneath his thighs, combined with the machine’s heat emanating from inside, Tims words become muddled and all Armie can focus on is the strawberry pink of Tims lips, the strawberry-scent of his tresses, the vibrations under his thighs, the warmth seeping its way right up to his groin...

 

 

and Armie’s hard in no time.

 

He jumps off the dryer, offers Tim an excuse and makes his way to his car. He hopes to god that Tim doesn’t follow. He hopes to god he _does_. But when that doesn’t happen he spends the better part of ten minutes willing his full on raging boner to go down because he’s not about to wank off in his driver seat, in broad daylight, risking arrest for public indecency.

 

When Armie returns he finds his clothes folded neatly in his basket.

 

“Sorry-I just thought-, Is this okay?”

 

He tries with his eyes to say “More than okay.” He strides over to Tim and gestures to his laundry.

 

“This..thank you.” The act rendering him at a loss for words.

 

“Hey Arms?”

 

“We hug okay?” Tim points to his nose.

 

“In case...you know. For future reference.” The second part of Tim’s sentence is muttered against Armies chest as he is encircled into a bear hug.

 

Armie doesn’t hesitate to snake his fingers through Tims curls to massage his scalp with his fingertips, and if Tim’s curls didn’t smell sweet enough from a distance, Armie takes a whiff and sniffs until he gets his fill and he’s sugar, sugar, sugar all over.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some fun before a little drama. This could be too corny but its a little cute.

Armie dissolved into sugar, literally. On cue, the incessant buzz of his alarm clock penetrates his subconsciousness and in moments he’s drenched in cold sweat, sat upright, sheets confining his lower body. There is a very visible tent towering between his thighs.

 

So it was, another dream.

 

Armie was convinced that it had been real this time- the dream bordered more on the line of innocence than it did being lascivious. He sighed as he stroked himself, the feeling, lackluster. He patted himself down and decided he’d have to deal with it later.

 

He tears himself away from his sheets and begrudgingly makes way to the Laundromat.

 

At this hour, the Laundromat was surprisingly buzzing with patrons. Armie had to maneuver

his way through the throng of people inhabiting the enclosed space. By pure luck alone Armie spots two empty washers side by side. He empties his bin in one and already spots someone attempting their way to the unoccupied washer beside him but Armie snatches a piece of fabric from his load and tosses it into the washer at his side. He hears an audible groan but doesn’t meet the pair of eyes. 

 

Armie sits and waits.

 

He hears the familiar ring of swinging doors and feels the air around him change. He knows its Tim.

 

Tim scans the laundromat and their eyes find each other; magnetized. Armie stands and Tim offers Armie a hug. No awkward limbs this time, unlike his dream, they slip into each other without any hassles nor difficulties.

 

Tim seems different somehow. His movements and persona more open now than he did their first encounter. Armie feels like the weeks worth of dreams he’s been having of Tim have given him a sense of an other worldly connection to this man, he knows its ridiculous, but perhaps they have connected on another dimension. Armie shakes off his thoughts.

 

Tim plops on the seat next to him.

“Guess Im waiting for the next one open.” Tim says with a crooked smile seeing several people waiting with their baskets on their laps.

 

Armie opens the top of the washer he’s been saving for Tim and throws Tim a wink over his shoulder.

 

“Todays your lucky day. Theres an empty one here just for you.”

 

Tim bounces forward and shimmies his way between Armie and the washer, drops his basket at Armie’s foot.

 

“Although, thats a big load you got there...i’m not sure it would fit.”

 

Tim quickly looks around, everyone else veiled in their own little worlds, no one paying them any mind or attention. They stay in that position, Tim wedged between Armie and the washer. Tim bends down to retrieve clothes from the basket and he does this at an excruciatingly slow pace. Tim bends down and pushes back just enough where his ass is now grazing the front of Armie’s jeans.

 

Armie has enough mind to count his fingers and confirm all the numbers on the clock before he dismisses this as another sequence of a dream. Its not.

 

“Its tight, but ill make sure it fits.” Tim’s whispered words finds Armie’s ear.

 

Tim continues to bend down to load the washer, his ass continues to rub up and down the length of Armie’s clad shaft.

 

“I. Need. Every. Last. Bit.”His words paced out with each bend of hip.

 

Armie is caught between a rock and a hard place. He does not know whether he should just jut his hips forward or if he should take a step back. No matter, because Tim increases his pressure and pace and it could not have been more than a few minutes before Armie is grunting low, a wetness painting his jeans, a wetness now dripping down his inner leg.

 

He checks the numbers of his watch. He counts ten fingers. This. is. not. a. dream.

 

The washer clicks and they hear the spring of water releasing into the load.

 

Tim turns around sheepishly and Armie finds Tim in the same predicament. His hands failing to conceal the bane of his embarrassment. A wet spot on Tim’s pant leg. A wet spot on Armie’s.

 

“Did we just?” Both questions in synchrony.

 

“Yeah. We did.” Their words mirrored, again.

 

“Do you think anyone noticed?” Tim asks, not that it matters, both still floating on their own respective cloud nines.

 

“Of course not.” Armie counters but he’s pretty sure they did.

 

Tim drags Armie by hand towards the Diner next door.

 

“Come on..” Tim says. He turns to Armie and adds:

 

“I’ve been dreaming about this diner for the past week.”


End file.
